


Hit The Brakes

by WorseOmens



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale’s car, Aziraphale’s car is a bastard too, Crowley’s Bentley is sentient, Crowley’s complicated relationship with Queen, Humour, Multi, Other, The Bentley (Good Omens) - Freeform, aziraphale learns to drive, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens
Summary: Aziraphale learns to drive, and the Bentley starts to take a shine to his new car. Crowley does not like it one bit.(Or: the Bentley develops a crush, and Aziraphale can’t fathom why Crowley is so bothered by it)
Relationships: Crowley/Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands - Relationship, The Bentley/Car OC
Comments: 37
Kudos: 341





	Hit The Brakes

Crowley had bought Aziraphale driving lessons as a _joke_. He hadn't expected him to actually take them, much less muddle through a test. He sat, dumbstruck, and the angel proudly brandished his new driver's license under his nose, and his problems didn't end there.

"It was rather straightforward, once you get down to it," Aziraphale said smugly, tucking the card into his breast pocket. "I don't know how you manage to make it so complicated."

"Whuh - bu - wha?" he spluttered defensively, spreading his arms wide. "I'm a fantastic driver."

"I am now _qualified_ to tell you that you're not," he said, patting his pocket. "Now, come outside. I have something I want to show you."

Crowley trailed Aziraphale out to the front of the shop. The street had been busy today, and he hadn't taken any notice of the cars littering the road. When the angel stopped at the edge of the pavement and gestured proudly to the side, Crowley frowned. 

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" he asked, glancing up and down the street in confusion. He looked to him for clarification. 

He huffed. "The car, Crowley," he said, pointing for a second time. "I bought myself a car."

His yellow eyes finally landed on the metal monstrosity parked by the shop. With a grimace, he slid his sunglasses down as if to confirm that they weren't deceiving him. "This?" he said flatly.

The classic Mini Cooper had Aziraphale written all over it; he ought to have noticed it on his way in. It had a slightly off-colour white paint job, showing its age, though the tartan roof had clearly been recently miracled to suit his tastes. Its squat bonnet reminded him of a pug's nose. He came closer, popping open the door to squint inside. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of old car, something Aziraphale no doubt found quite charming. The dashboard had no confusing modern bells and whistles, apart from a very antique cassette player and the basic dials behind the steering wheel. The seats were upholstered with a mixture of tartan and a kind of rough-textured, pale material whose name he couldn't place. He straightened up, slamming the door shut. 

"Angel," he said, dusting off his hands. "It's awful."

He gasped melodramatically, putting his hand protectively on the low roof. "How dare you," he said in an undertone.

"You're not seriously going to drive around in this thing, are you?" he said, gesturing to it. "It's an eyesore."

"It's rather charming, actually," he said snootily, patting the roof as if it were a dog. 

"It's tiny," he argued.

"Which is very practical, in London!" he said, crossing his arms.

"You have my car to get around in. What do you even need this old rust bucket for?" he said, pushing his glasses back up his nose and fixing the car with a glare. "It's got nothing that the Bentley doesn't, apart from the ugly bits."

"Oh, I see," said the angel, smug again. Crowley's brow furrowed.

"What? What do you see?" he said, narrowing his eyes. 

"You're jealous of her," he said, with a victorious smile. 

" _Her?_ " he echoed, gawking. "What, it's a person now, is it?"

"You didn't deny it," he said, chuckling as he walked past him back into the shop. 

"Deny wh - ? Wait!" he said, regret striking him as he chased after him. "Angel! Angel, don't ignore me! I am not jealous of a _car!"_

The bookshop door closed, blocking out their bickering from the street. The Mini happily watched them go, amused and glad to have finally met the demon that Aziraphale spoke so highly of. He liked to talk when he drove, always chattering on about this or that, and she did her best to reply to him using her radio. It wasn't easy. As she wondered when he might come back, she became aware of a pair of eyes on her. Or rather, headlights. 

She adjusted her wing mirror slightly, trying to look behind her. A black bonnet came into view, edging out slightly into the road to get a better view. It hesitated slightly when it noticed her looking back. After a moment staring at each other, the Mini waved (or rather, moved her antenna). The Bentley took this to be a good sign, and cheerily waved back.

Crowley and Aziraphale eventually forgot about their argument over their cars, and spent the day sitting idly by and doing none of the things they were supposed to be doing, as usual. Being released from Heaven and Hell didn't get rid of all their responsibilities, but they still did their absolute best to ignore all that remained. Crowley was just leaving as the light level in the street began to dip lower, and his feet automatically took him to the spot where he'd parked the Bentley. He absent-mindedly reached for the door handle, and found his hand closing around thin air. 

Snapping back to reality, he jerked backward. He scowled, looking around him, examining the road for any signs of tyre tracks burning the tarmac. The Bentley wouldn't just allow itself to be stolen, surely! Where had it gone? 

He stormed back toward the bookshop, only to falter as he clapped eyes on the Bentley almost immediately. He'd asked right past it. Fists clenched, he strode up to it. "What the bloody Heaven d'you think you're playing at?" he snapped, doing a double take immediately afterward. "Oh, no. No, absolutely not. AZIRAPHALE!"

The angel poked his head out the door. "Crowley? What's the matter?"

"What’s the - ? I'll tell you what's the matter!" he raved, flapping his hands at the roadside. "My car went and parked itself right next to yours - _without me in it._ Care to explain?"

Aziraphale hummed, stepping out onto the path. "Well, that is curious," he said. He looked between the two cars. "Perhaps the Bentley has taken a shine to her."

"It better not have," he said, glaring at his car. The Bentley didn't deign to respond. "Right, I'm leaving, before this gets any worse."

With that, he swung himself into the driver's seat and took off down the road. Aziraphale watched him go, tutting at his attitude. "Don't mind him, my dear," he said to the Mini, resting his hand on her bonnet. "If you like that Bentley, then you have my blessing. Just... don't go telling Crowley I said that, will you?"

Aziraphale began to make visits to Crowley’s flat, mostly to show off his new skill. The demon didn’t mind - in fact, it prompted him to make his apartment a little more homey - but it did mean that the Mini was often parked beside the Bentley downstairs. That made him very suspicious. He had no proof that the two cars were interacting at all, but he had a nasty feeling that there was always some sort of conversation going on between them. 

Before long, the Bentley started behaving strangely. It was playing _I’m In Love With My Car, Somebody To Love,_ and _You’re My Best Friend_ on loop whenever Crowley turned the radio on, and it wasn’t going any faster than 80 miles per hour no matter how hard he pressed his foot on the accelerator. He told Aziraphale to stop bringing his “bloody tart of a car” to his flat, and started parking the Bentley around the corner rather than right beside the bookshop. That worked well enough, until...

“Ah. Erm... Crowley,” Aziraphale said, peeking out between the blinds of the shop window. “Did you drive here today?”

“Yeah,” he said, immediately suspicious.

“Whereabouts did you park?” he said, doing his best attempt to seem innocuous. 

“Why?” he asked, striding over to glare out the window as well. 

“Because I suspect my Mini may have gone looking for the Bentley,” he said sheepishly. He took his coat off the hook, shrugging it on. “Shall we...?”

He sighed, giving a long groan and stepping out onto the street. “This way. It’s not far.”

They walked side by side down the street, stewing in silence. Aziraphale glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The Mini was a lovely little car, in his eyes, and he didn’t understand why Crowley was so antsy about her and the Bentley. Did he not think Aziraphale had taught her manners well enough? What was the problem here? 

They rounded the corner, finding the little white car parked facing the Bentley. Crowley growled. “I knew it!” he barked, imposing himself between the two of them. He began to draw odd looks from passers-by. 

“Don’t be too harsh on her, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, putting a hand on his arm. “She only wanted to see her friend. How many sentient cars do you think there are in London? Not enough for an active social life!”

“Don’t make excuses for her. Besides, is it really a _friendship_ she’s looking for?” he said, narrowing his eyes as if expecting the car to lunge at him.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. They’re cars, Crowley. They can’t really get up to much trouble, can they?” he said, pulling his cardigan tighter around him. He fixed him with a reproachful stare. “Just calm down. We’ll take them both back to the shop where we can keep an eye on them, if you’re still so ruffled.”

“Right. But mark my words, if we end up with some Mini Cooper - Bentley hybrids driving around out of nowhere, I’ll know who’s to blame,” he said stubbornly, getting in the Bentley. The engine refused to start up until the Mini pulled out into the road, much to his annoyance. 

They parked them next to each other by the bookshop, and Aziraphale headed inside. Crowley hesitated, half hanging out the door and jabbing a finger toward the cars. “If I hear engines revving out here, I’m coming to check on you two,” he warned. A manicured hand reached through the doorframe, pulling him into the shop by his shirt collar. Privately, the Bentley snickered.

“Stop bothering them, Crowley. They’re perfectly fine,” the angel said, locking the door and ushering him into the back room. “Besides... I think we need to talk.”

Crowley’s face fell. Aziraphale felt his back tense up under his hand, and quickly took it away for fear he’d made him uncomfortable. He sat down on his armchair, surprised to see the wide-eyed fear on the demon’s face. 

“What’s this about, angel?” he asked, easing himself down onto the sofa with no sign of relaxing.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, with an exasperated glance. 

A thousand things crossed Crowley’s mind. Had he been suffocating him with his frequent visits? Had he ripped into the Mini’s tartan aesthetic a little too hard? A nasty part of his mind whispered that Aziraphale was probably missing Heaven. He was an angel, at the end of the day, and he belonged with other angels, not some random demon he took pity on eons ago. Maybe this was the end of The Arrangement. He braved himself for the killing blow.

“Is it?” he said with a wince. If he played dumb, he might be able to cling on a little longer. 

“The cars, Crowley,” he said. “I’m talking about the cars.”

He blinked. “You are?”

“What else would it be? You’ve been nothing but agitated ever since I got that car, and I just can’t understand your attitude,” he said, looking at him with a gaze full of honest sympathy. 

“What, about - ? The Bentley?” he said. He began to fidget uncomfortably. “It’s nothing. You’re right, I’m just overreacting.”

“Crowley - ”

“Have you still got that bottle of wine from the other night?” he said, looking around the room to avoid eye contact. 

“Crowley!” he said scoldingly, shutting him up. His expression softened again, sitting forward slightly. “Please just tell me what’s bothering you. We’re on our own side, remember? You can talk to me.”

He took a sharp breath. His stomach twisted, and he could neither break eye contact nor bring himself to lie. “It’s just - the Bentley’s never taken an interest in anything like this before, not since...” he said, taking a shaky breath.

“Since what?” he said softly.

“Not since _Queen_ ,” he wailed, throwing his arms up. “For fuck’s sake, angel, I let it take an interest last time and now I can’t listen to anything apart from Freddie bloody Mercury! What if it starts slapping tartan onto itself and shrinking? _I need my leg room, angel!”_

He broke off, slightly emotional and short of breath, scanning Aziraphale’s face for a reaction. It was blank for a moment. He waved his hand in front of him. These worries had been eating at him for weeks, and letting it out had felt like a relief. The angel snapped back to reality, a smile starting to tug at his lips and a laugh beginning to bubble up.

“Angel?” he said, stumped.

“Oh, s - sorry, Crowley, I really am, I just - ” he said, fanning his face and trying to regain his composure. “Is that what this is all about? You’re worried the Bentley is going to start copying the Mini?”

“Yes!” he said, gesturing wildly again. “Think! Me, driving around in a dumpy little - little tartan smart car at 30 miles an hour through Central London! _Stop laughing!”_

Aziraphale had broken down giggling again. Crowley stared for a moment in disbelief. Unfortunately for him, the laughter was infectious, and a smile soon crept onto his mouth as well. “It’s not funny,” he said, but the words had no teeth. 

“It is a smidge funny,” he said, hoping Crowley would indulge him. 

“Okay. A smidge,” he replied, shaking his head with a begrudging smile. 

“If it sets your mind at ease, I’ll ask the Mini to make sure your car doesn’t start copying her,” he said, patting his knee. “If I do that, will you agree to leave them be in future?”

He paused. “Yeah all right,” he relented, the tension finally draining out of his shoulders. “Might be nice for the Bentley to have someone to talk to for once.”

“I’m glad you came around,” he said, pleased, gladly starting to relax into his chair.

He hummed, slouching bonelessly back against the sofa. It was good to get that off his chest, finally, and now Aziraphale mentioned it... he had been a bit overprotective of the Bentley. He smirked at himself. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so carried away with himself when Aziraphale said he wanted to talk, thinking he was going to be thrown out on his arse. What an idiot. Maybe he should finally ask him out on a proper date one of these days, if he could ever get him back in the passenger seat again. 

The sound of a revving engine made his head snap up. It was quickly joined by another, one that he instantly recognised as the Bentley. He and Aziraphale met eyes across the table, silently thinking the same thing.

“Should we... check on that?” Aziraphale asked, eyes darting toward the shopfront. He winced as the Mini’s car horn gave a short toot. 

“Yep,” Crowley said quickly, both of them breaking into a sprint toward the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no excuse for this. Aziraphale managed to buy a car that was not only a tart, but also a total bastard. What a machine.


End file.
